Song of Ages
by baynard
Summary: The story of the dragonborn is well known throughout all of Skyrim, told and retold so many times that truth and myth have become inseparably entwined. But few knew the story better than the woman who had stood by his side his entire journey, guarding his back against all his foes and eventually warming his bed at his side during the night.
1. Chapter 1

Lydia of Whiterun was not a woman easily intimidated. She had stood her ground against bandits, spiders, trolls and all manner of creatures across Skyrim in her time of service as housecarl to the Jarl of Whiterun. Having lived 23 summers, she was bit too old to be considered marriage material, not what most men looking for a young healthy childbearing wife would want anyways.

Staring carefully into the reflection of her mirror, Lydia made sure that every part of her armor was placed on correctly. She had to be particularly presentable today, after all the Jarl had announced that she had been given the honor of becoming the personal housecarl of the new Thane of Whiterun. And this was not just any nobleman who had earned enough coin and power to deserve a title and voice in court, but a man who had proven himself with blade and courage in the service of the Jarl.

Dragonborn, came the whispers from amongst the guards. The ones lucky enough to survive the head on assault against the dragon that had attacked the Western Watchtower had spoken in hushed tones of how the new Thane had brought down the dragon by himself whilst their arrows and blades were turned aside by the beast's seemingly impenetrable hide. A mage they said, one of great power. He had filled the skies with lightening and fire, piercing through the savage beasts leathery wings, successfully grounding the monster. Speaking with the voice of the damned, he had awakened the fallen soldiers who littered the battlefield, sending a dozens upon dozens of the undead rushing fearlessly towards the thrashing beast.

While the guards had continued to rain arrows from a distance, the dragonborn had summoned a blade of ethereal power and charged fearlessly towards the downed dragon that had been tearing apart the zombies that had harassed the creature.

Circling about so that he came up outside the eye line of the dragon, the man had leapt onto the creatures head, grabbing hold with his free hand while stabbing wildly with the conjured long blade in his other. The tortured creature had screamed and thrashed more than ever, kicking up a cloud of dust that blocked the view of those few who were still alive, holding back their arrows for fear of hitting the man trying to kill the beast.

With a final roar that shook them to the core of their beings followed by a thump that made the earth jump beneath their feet, there was silence. As the dust settled, a strange glowing halo of light was dimly seen swirling about the man that stumbled through the ash and dust, a nimbus of power that seeped into his very skin.

Dragonborn, said to be those of the ancient bloodline who slew dragons and absorbed their souls to fuel their dragonsongs. Speaking the old tongue of the dragons, they could command power unlike any other with a shout. Stories of dragonborns were highly revered amongst the Nords, the few that had cropped up over the century had always heralded times of strife and great change. With the return of the dragons, the new dragonborn would surely be at the center of events that will soon unfold and be recorded in history along with the other old tales.

And Lydia of Whiterun was to become the housecarl to the new dragonborn, given the task of guarding him, and in essence guarding the future of all of Skyrim. Understandably, even the well-seasoned housecarl felt out of her depth given the vastness of her next assignment.

Breathing out an explosive sigh, Lydia gave her reflection one final examination, carefully scrutinizing her steel armor. She had polished the metal carefully so that even though it was well used, it shown brightly, a reflection of her competence. The nicks and scarring on the metal plate was proof that it was not for show; she had survived many battles to get where she was. Hopefully the new Thane would approve of her.

A knock on her door broke her out of her thoughts and she quickly turned towards the entrance.

"It's open."

One of the many servants of the Jarl scurried in, a flustered look on her face.

"The Jarl sends for you my lady. The Thane has arrived."

Feeling her heart skip of beat, Lydia nodded her head before glancing quickly back at the full length mirror. She was as presentable as she was going to get.

Taking a deep breath, she took the steel sword laid out on the table and sheathed the blade into the scabbard. Grabbing the well-worn steel shield she had leaned against the table leg, she marched out of her room with a straight back and a determined face. Today she would be accepting her most important assignment, and like all other assignments she had taken, she would not fail her Jarl.


	2. Chapter 2

Her Thane had not been quite what she had expected. Lydia liked to think that she was not a particularly prejudiced person, at least not compared to many of the northern folk in Skyrim anyways. But still she had the same misgivings about magic users as all Nords did, and certainly the few mages she had run across had done little to break out of the stereotype that came with being a magic wielder. Often they were thin, wiry and pale, a result of spending most their time indoors with heads buried in a book and having never lifted a hand to do any physical labor on their own behalf. They were either outspoken to the point of disrespect or seemingly incapable of communication like normal folks. Either way, they were unsociable and hard to relate to.

Yet when she had laid eyes on her Thane for the first time, she knew that he was unlike the other spell casters she had met in her travels. His dark hair and fair skin gave away his Breton ancestry, and while not as muscle bound as many of the hardy northern folk, he was no scrawny milk drinker either. He stood tall, tall as most Nord men if only perhaps weighing about half as much seeing as he chose to wear leather armor over the more popular heavy variant that most the northern folks preferred. His back was turned to her as she approached, speaking with the Jarl and the many of the important people who had gathered at court to meet the new Thane of Whiterun.

His voice was deep and powerful, one that commanded attention with authority not given by title or deed but rather a hypnotic quality that caught the ear and would not let go. Even as Lydia approached, she could hear the many people surrounding the man burst into peals of laughter at whatever it was he had said. The Jarl himself seemed particularly delighted, clutching his sides as he clapped the dragonborn across the shoulders.

Straightening, the ruler of Whitefun wiped a tear from his eye before finally catching sight of Lydia. Seeing her leader beckon to her, she hastened her steps and moved towards the group of people who all seemed eager to speak to the new Thane.

"Ah my friend," boomed Jarl Balgruff, "with your new title of Thane of Whiterun comes more than just a seat amongst my court. May I introduce you to your new housecarl, Lydia of Whiterun."

Lydia felt her breath hitch as her new Thane turned to face her. Once, this was a face that would have been perhaps the most gorgeous across Skyrim if not all of Tamriel. Handsome features that were so evenly balanced that it may have been carved into stone by the gods themselves were marred by a two lined scar that ran from the ridge of his right eyebrow downwards across the eye almost to the bottom of his cheek. They scared eye itself was milky white, similar to those who had gone blind, yet in the midst of the blank gaze was a strange glow of red that glared out at onlookers as if it could pierce through flesh and into the very soul of the unfortunate person. His left eye was a deep blue that pooled in such a way that a person could lose themselves in his gaze, and painted carelessly across his normal eye was black war paint that mirrored the scar on his right side.

His mismatched eyes made keeping eye contact with him uncomfortable, and the corresponding scar and war paint did nothing to distract from his unnatural gaze. Forcing herself to meet his scrutiny, Lydia placed her free hand across her chest in a salute before bowing slightly before her new Thane.

"I am honored my Thane. My sword arm is yours, and I will protect you until my dying breath."

Startled by her Thane's deep laugh, Lydia looked up and caught sight of unnaturally sharp canines standing out against the row of perfectly even and white teeth.

"Let's try to leave the dying to our enemies shall we?"

Nodding dumbly, Lydia straightened up as the people around them once more broke out into laughter and jeering cries at her Thane's statement.

"Well said lad," growled the Jarl of Whiterun. "I do not envy your foes my friend. What do you plan to do next?"

Lydia stood uncertainly as her new master turned to face her Jarl and the group of eager faces that surrounded them. She was uncomfortable amongst the nobility of Whiterun and preferred to speak with her blade and fists, but she endured her discomfort and forced herself to pay attention.

"Well the Greybeards had sent their summons," drawled the dragonborn, "I suppose it would be rude not to answer."

What would have been blasphemous coming out of anyone else's mouth was met again with the laughter of the people watching their new Thane with adoration in their eyes. Though Lydia felt slightly offended by the casual way in which her Thane dismissed the authority of the Greybeards, she could not help but find some amusement and ease in which the way he spoke. Truly here was a man with a silver tongue.

Balgruff nodded and sent the other people away with a glance and gesture. As the disappointed crowd moved away to chatter in their own little pockets, Lydia followed her Thane and Jarl as they moved back to the throne.

"I envy you my friend," said Balgruff. "To take the journey up to the temple at High Hrothgar, to walk the 7000 steps of pilgrimage and see the sacred scriptures. I took that trip once myself in my youth. The throat of the world is unlike any place you will find in Tamriel. Take care my young friend, your journey I feel that will shape the destiny of more than just the people of Skyrim."

"Well no pressure then," quipped the new Thane of Whiterun. "I'll send them your greetings shall I?"

The ruler of Whiterun shook his head with a chuckle. "You are too much my friend. Will you be leaving in the morning?"

"I might be leaving sooner than that. A moonlit stroll appeals to me at the moment. I am a traveler at heart, and the call of the wilderness is hard to resist even amongst your beautiful home."

"Ah to be young again," sighed Balgruff nostalgically.

Lydia dutifully followed after the two men, wondering what strange turn her life had suddenly taken.


	3. Chapter 3

Trailing behind her Thane, Lydia did no quite know what to do with herself. Though she had been a housecarl for more than a decade counting her years in training, she had never actually been given the task of being a personal housecarl. She had mostly been given assignments to be completed by the Jarl, given free rein to do as she saw fit to complete her given mission. She had traveled across half of Skyrim fighting the enemies of Whiterun, but never had she been tasked with simply protecting someone. The Jarl had his brother as his personal bodyguard, who was at his side day and night, and now she really wished she had talked more with the intimidating man if only to get some tips on what to do.

Following her Thane into the court wizard's room, Lydia almost bumped into the man when he came to a halt so lost was she in her own thoughts. Facing him as he turned about, she could feel a slow heat buildup in the back of her neck as her Thane's eyes lingered on hers before racking across her figure with an appreciative quality about his gaze.

"My Thane?" she asked hesitantly. It was not unheard of for certain favored to a Jarl to take certain liberties with their housecarls. The new Thane of Whiterun did not seem like such a man, but then she knew very little about him.

"None of that now," he chuckled, mismatched eyes returning to hers. "The Jarl may have bestowed me a title of prestige today, but I am simply Jarel as I had been yesterday."

Leaning uncomfortably close, he closed his normal eye and stared at her with his right. The pinpoint red glow within the misty white seemed to expand and envelope the entire sphere, causing Lydia to jump back slightly in fright.

Her Thane frowned as the light in his eye dimmed once more and he opened his normal eye. "Hmm no enchantments I see. Just plain steel then?"

Willing her beating heart to slow, Lydia forced herself to look her Thane in the eyes. "My Thane?"

"What did I tell you?" he chided gently without any real reproach. "Call me Jarel."

"Yes my-..yes Jarel. What do you mean?"

"Your gear." He gestured at her body.

Finally understanding, she shook her head. "No, just steel."

Blushing faintly as Jarel laughed, she hunched her shoulders slightly waiting for his criticism.

"Well lucky you work for me then don't you?" Still chuckling, her Thane fished about inside the many pockets of the strange leather armor he wore, pulling up what she recognized to be a soul gem. There were differences given the size of the gems, not something she knew how to tell the difference between, but as with most people she figured that bigger meant more powerful. And this one was bigger than any she had ever seen, though admittedly that was not many.

"Let me see your sword Lydia."

Carefully unsheathing her blade, she handed it over to Jarel with some hesitation. As his housecarl, everything she had including herself belonged to him. It was in his every right to take the blade and throw it out the window should he choose, but nonetheless she was rather fond of the sword that had seen her through nearly half a decade of battle. She had some idea of what he intended, but could not help but feel skeptical. Magical weapons were rare and extremely powerful, but few knew the secrets behind how to properly make them. The hearsay from the guards said that he was a mage of some power, but didn't this sort of thing take time and some ritual to it?

Taking the steel sword from her, he gave the blade a few experimental swings before nodding with approval.

"You have taken good care of this blade."

Glowing at the compliment, Lydia averted her eyes in embarrassment. Praise was something she was not used to. As a housecarl of the Jarl, she was expected to do the task she was given, and in return for her service she was given a roof over her head and the honor of assisting her Jarl in whatever capacity he needed.

"And I will make sure that this blade takes well care of you." Jarel murmured with a feral grin.

Placing her blade upon the pentagram shaped table full of arcane symbols and etchings, he began to work away at the steel with the tools on the table.

"Tell me of yourself Lydia."

Startled by her Thane's command, she took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "I was orphaned when my parents were killed by bandits on the road when I was just a girl of twelve summers. They were traders who ran caravans between the cities of Skyrim. Luckily a Whiterun patrol happened by and saved me before I joined my parent's fate."

Staring down at her feet, Lydia felt the prickle of tears that came to her eyes whenever she thought of her beloved parents. It was something she had never truly gotten over even after so many years had passed.

"I'm sorry for you lost." Though his back was turned, his voice conveyed his sincerity.

"Thank you. I was too young to be married and had no family, and so I was taken in as a servant to the Jarl. I was no good at housework, but they quickly noticed my talent for the blade and I was instead trained to be a housecarl. After four years under the watchful eyes of Irileth I was allowed to venture off in the company of soldiers to fight the battles of the Jarl. After two years of proving my mettle, I was allowed to complete assignments on my own. I spent the past five years hunting the enemies of Whiterun."

Letting her gaze wander about the strange room filled with all manners of arcane trinkets, she wracked her mind for other things to speak of.

"Good to know you are capable, though I never doubted that seeing as the Jarl assigned you as my personal guard." A sizzling noise emanated from the table and a blue glow flared up briefly.

"By the way, do you prefer fire, lightening or ice?" he asked with his back still turned.

Blanking slightly at the sudden question, Lydia opened her mouth but no words came out as she did not know how to answer the unexpected question.

Hearing nothing, Jarel turned slightly and chortled at her confused expression causing her to flush once more.

"Fire burns the flesh and most creatures of the north tend to be weak against flame. However the heat tends to seal the wounds made by the blade, so your foes will not weaken as quickly from the loss of blood. The cold strikes the flesh similar to the flames though perhaps not as powerfully, however I'm sure as you've experienced yourself the chill can sap a person of their strength and will to fight."

Nodding her head slowly as she absorbed her Thane's lecture, she asked the obvious question. "And lightening?"

An unnatural gleam of glee came across the man's one good eye sending a shiver down her spine.

"Personally my favorite element," he said with an unnaturally ferocious expression that bordered on cruel. "It tears through flesh better than ice, almost as well as fire in fact and can momentarily stun a foe. It also tends to disrupt a person's ability to control magicka, useful against mages like myself. The one weakness being that lightening is the most consuming of the three elements so your new blade will need to be recharged more often than if it was imbued with one of the other elements."

Nodding her head once more, Lydia came to a decision. "I would like lightening then."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart." Turning back to the enchanting table, Jarel missed the return of the blush blotting Lydia's cheeks.

No more words were spoken between them as Jarel's attention became fully focused on his task at hand. A strange hum had filled the air and Lydia could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand as power seemed to exude from the table. After fighting her anxiety caused by so much magic in the air for gods knows how long, Lydia nearly jumped out of her skin as a violent crack and flash of light blinded her.

Falling ungracefully on her backside, she hurriedly scrambled to her feet while shaking away the spots dancing in her vision.

"My Thane?!"

"Now what did I tell you about that Thane business Lydia? Don't make me make it an order."

His teasing voice cleared away much of her worry, as did the return of her vision which showed that Jarel was still standing by the table in one piece while hefting her smoking blade in one hand and examining it with his good eye.

"Gods blood man!" shouted Farengar as he rushed into the room filled with smoke. "Are you trying to destroy my lab?!"

The normally unflappable court wizard looked more worried than Lydia had ever seen, and she took some amusement in his fear. She had never particularly liked the man; he had a tendency to talk down his nose at people as if they weren't worth his time.

"Now, now, Farengar, you know how we mages love to push the boundaries of magic from time to time," drawled Jarel was he continued to examine his blade. "Some explosions are to be expected once in a while."

Swelling up like a bullfrog preparing to explode, Farengar marched over until he was facing the good side of Jarel's face.

"Yes that is all well and good, but most would have the courtesy to experiment and blow up their own labs!" he shouted.

"Ach, details," grumbled her Thane while waving a hand dismissively in the reddening face of the court wizard much to Lydia's continued delight. "Besides, we have an agreement. You lend me your lab, and I go out and find you the things you need for your own experiments that you do not trust anyone but another wizard to get right."

Deflating somewhat, Farengar dropped his head slightly. "Yes, yes, damnable agreement. I don't know what in Oblivion possessed me to agree to it."

Turning to finally face the man with a charming smile plastered across his face, Jarel offered the blade hilt first the disgruntled wizard.

"Because I slayed a dragon upon command? Or perhaps to lay your eyes upon the marvels I manage to create?"

Snorting, Farengar turned the blade this way and that and frowned as he examined the weapon that Lydia could see was now covered in glowing eldritch ruins that crackled maliciously with each movement.

"Now this can't be," murmured the wizard of Whiterun. "There are two layered enchantments upon this blade…"

As he continued to turn the blade this way and that, his eyes widened comically.

"Are you absolutely insane man?!" demanded Farengar as he turned his astonished gaze onto Jarel.

Shrugging, her Thane simply offered up another boyish grin that took the age of his face in such a way that made her heart skip a beat and drop into her stomach.

"It worked didn't it?"

"Worked?!" spluttered the court wizard. "I'm surprised you didn't blow your own goddamn hand off with the amount of power you placed in this thing."

Carefully handing the blade over, Farengar backed up slightly while giving the blade a fearful glance. "The next time you plan on experimenting with unstable elements like that again, give me fair warning. I wish to be in Winterhold just in case."

Backing out the entryway, the court wizard left in a flurry of purple robes and unpleasant mutterings.

Lydia shifted nervously as she approached her Thane upon his beckoning.

"Now that I've done upgrading your blade, we'll have to give it a name," Jarel said with a thoughtful look.

"A name?" she echoed.

"Oh yes," he replied happily. "All great blades have a name of some sorts don't they? I'd like to think that if you became famous wielding this blade then perhaps the name Jarel will be known as its crafter."

"What does it do?" Lydia asked cautiously. Ferengar had seemed convinced that whatever Jarel had done to the blade was borderline insanity and the care in which the man had handled the blade coupled with his hasty retreat did nothing to reassure her. If a mage thought what you did was stupid and crazy, that was really saying something.

"Don't listen to the puffed up court jester," scoffed her Thane. "This blade is a thing of beauty I tell you. I have combined with it the kiss of the vampire and the touch of storm as you asked. It will serve you well on the battlefield."

"Vampire?"

"Indeed. With each drop of blood this blade sheds, it will drain the lost life force from your foe and add it to your own. Mind you it won't heal any terrible wounds for sure, but think of it this way. As your foe gets weaker, you will grow stronger. What shall we name it?"

Eyeing the shimmering blade warily, Lydia wondered just exactly what he had done to her beloved sword. Taking the blade back carefully at the hilt, she gave it a few experimental swings. The metal felt lighter than before, almost like the wooden training sword she had used to practice and hone her blade skill. Each swing produced a silent whisper that sent a shiver down her spine along with a crackle of energy that swirled with a faint hint of black.

The strange glowing ruins that had been etched onto both sides of the blades did not match up and seemed to fade and glow at different intervals to some unheard tune.

"Terrorhold? Far Reach? Death Knell?"

The words of her Thane washed over her, barely registering as she examined her new sword. Unbidden, words came to her mind and she spoke them aloud.

"The Dark Lady's Kiss."

Startled at her own confident proclamation, Lydia turned her eyes down in embarrassment.

"The Dark Lady's Kiss," murmured Jarel, testing the words. "I like it. It is simple and elegant, yet conveys the danger of the blade.

Looking up, Lydia felt a smile blossom across her face at her new Thane's approval.

"I will use this sword well," she murmured as she carefully sheathed the crackling blade.

"Well then, off to see the Greybeards shall we?"

Falling in step behind her Thane as he headed for the massive doors of Dragonreach, Lydia somehow knew that her life had reached a turning point. All her past struggles had accumulated to this one moment. She would not fail.


	4. Chapter 4

Lydia winced as her shield arm went numb from a wild two handed warhammer blow. The man wielding the massive maul was easily half a foot over six feet, and was built like a snow lion. One would not use the term graceful to describe her assailant's martial capability, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in sheer endurance and mindboggling strength that her poor shield arm could attest to.

The housecarl back peddled quickly to avoid having her skull crushed by another exaggerated overhead swing. Capitalizing on the man's sudden opening caused by the momentum of his own powerful attack, Lydia rushed forward and smashed her shield against his unguarded shaven head. Watching the massive brute stumble backwards in a daze from having his skull rung, she timed her lunge and jammed her newly enchanted blade into the left armpit that had momentarily left exposed.

The blade sank through the exposed flesh like butter, and the bandit's cry of agony was cut off as his body seized from the surge of electricity that had stricken his body. As the bear of a man collapsed onto the ground, Lydia withdrew her blade with a satisfied relish and felt a tingling sensation across the few scrapes and bruises she had accumulated over the short skirmish, similar to the feel of having swallowed a weak health potion.

The Dark Lady, the shortened name that she had taken to calling her sword, absorbed the crimson lifeblood running down her glinting edge. Within seconds the blade was as clean as if Lydia had just finished oiling and polishing her sword. Turning her head to size up how many of the roadside muggers were left, her eyes found the half dozen men and woman who had already fallen in battle between Jarel's deadly rain of spells and her own formidable swordsmanship. The only one of their assailants that remained standing was a half bald old man with a slight hunchback who apparently was a practitioner of the school of destruction.

Lydia flinched as the two men sent bolts of lightning racing towards each other in a deadly contest of magical strength. The sharp crack and blinding clashes of light would leap between their fingers and dart off at unfathomable speeds, only to meet in midair and dispel from the forces of the other mage's spell. But while the old man was sweating furiously and backing up with every incantation, Jarel looked positively delighted as he recklessly stepped forward with each thrown spell.

"What's the matter old man?! Getting tired?" he jeered. Her Thane actually sounded like he was enjoying the dual much to Lydia's astonishment.

The bandit did not reply to the banter, but it was evident that he was weakening. Each of his spells seemed to sputter and flicker as he continued to cast, his breathing becoming more labored and uneven as the seconds ticked by. The clashes of energy which had been relatively even, was now falling in favor of her Thane, each meeting of lightning seemingly pushed back further and further towards the elderly bandit who grew increasingly panicked.

Finally, the bandit's powers failed him. An arcane gestured summoned nothing but a brief spark that died with a snap between his fingers. Jarel's own bolt caught the man dead center in the chest and even at twenty paces Lydia's nose caught the scent of cooked flesh and burnt hair.

The blackened corpse of the last bandit crashed to the floor without fanfare, and with his death the housecarl breathed out a breath of relief she hadn't realized she had been holding. Lydia had successfully protected her Thane in their first skirmish, though she suspected that Jarel could have handled all the bandits by himself just as easily.

"Ach, what a weakling. More a hedgewizard than a real mage that one," grumbled the dark haired Breton as he dusted off his hands.

Walking up behind her Thane, Lydia examined him for injuries and found none. Unsurprising seeing as the man managed to reduce his foes to burnt ashes before they got within sword swinging distance.

"How's the new blade treating you Lydia?"

A smile touched on her lips as she turned the Dark Lady over in her hands in a quick cursory examination for any damage. Satisfied, she sheathed her blade in one smooth motion with the ease of a woman who had done it thousands of times before.

"A fine weapon my Thane."

A fine weapon indeed. Of the two other bandits she had fought besides her last foe, the Dark lady had quickly dispatched them with a few well-placed swings. The honed blade's magical nature had momentarily stunned her targets even when the blow was not fatal, giving her ample opportunity to finish off her adversary. The dual wielder who had hefted two daggers had been easily felled as she approached well into the Dark Lady's reach. A quick charge with steel shield leading had stunned the woman and her head had swiftly fallen to the floor before her decapitated corpse joined it there.

The second bandit had tried to circle around Lydia while his companion had met her ill begotten fate in a frontal charge, but Lydia had whirled back to avoid the flanking easily enough. The mace and shield the man held over his lightly armored body had proven to be trickier to deal with then the first bandit, but a quick jab to an exposed leg had paralyzed her opponent long enough to be gutted in rain of crimson. The one who had taken the longest to bring down had been the bandit with the warhammer. His weapon's reach put him out of range of the Dark Lady without a need for a suicidal charge, but in the end the weight of his own attack had betrayed him.

"Really now Lydia, we've spilt blood together! What's all this Thane nonsense? I was born Jarel, the women I bed cry for Jarel and I will die Jarel!"

Tossing his head back and laughing at her flushed face at his casual mention of his bedroom activities, the new Thane of Whiterun plodded closer until only inches separated their faces.

"Hmm, or perhaps that is what Lydia needs to learn how to say my name properly yes?"

The rather lewd and forward proposition would have earned a gauntlet to the face from any other man, but the mage's marred handsome features so close to her own was enough to weaken Lydia's knees. Blushing furiously, she backed up with a squeak before she tripped over a body and fell on her haunches in an undignified sprawl, causing her companion to burst into a deep belly laugh.

"You are too much my lord!" she protested as she struggled to fight down the heat in her face while flailing to get back up.

Jarel continued to chuckled but reached down with a hand to help her to her feet. Eyeing the proffered limb as if it might be a venomous snake, Lydia finally grasped it and hauled herself back to a standing position.

"Then you best learn how to say my name," Jarel said with a smirk. "I am not a patient man, but I am told that I am a willing and skillful teacher!"

With one more leer, he turned and quickly began to rifle through the corpses of the bandits. Lydia valiantly ignored the sudden warm dampness that had built between her legs during their exchange and joined her Thane in the time honored tradition of looting the dead. Most of the weapons used by the bandits were well worn and of poor quality. Worth only a handful of coins at the markets at best; not worth the effort to haul all the way back to Whiterun.

The armor amongst the thieves besides the man with the maul had mostly been fur, more good for warmth than turning aside a blade seeking blood. Again not worth the few coins it would fetch for the backbreaking labor of hauling the cheap loot all the way back to the markets. Still they managed to pilfer quite a sum of gold amongst the bodies, enough to keep themselves housed and fed at a village for days. There were also a handful of potions that her Thane had squinted at with his magical eye before he had announced that they were only minor magicka, health and a single stamina potion. The bottles were neatly divided between the two traveling companions, Lydia receiving the single stamina potion and more of the health while Jarel had pocketed all the magicka variants.

A gold ring was taken off the blackened corpse of the fallen mage, the expensive jewelry handed over to Lydia in a mocking fashion of a man asking for a woman's hand in marriage much to her embarrassment. She had almost refused to take the ring before Jarel had laughed and grasped her hand with his own before putting the ring on her free hand as he got off his knee.

"A beautiful adornment for a beautiful woman," he said with a wink.

Ignoring her Thane's flirting, Lydia noted how the cold night air suddenly did not have the same bite it did moments before.

Noticing her distracted look, Jarel clucked his tongue knowingly. "Ah I see you've noticed. The trinket is enchanted to ward off the nip of frost. Not particularly powerful so don't go diving at the breath of a frost dragon. But it might make the night air of Skyrim more bearable."

Bowing her head slightly in thanks, Lydia straightened her up and found that her Thane had already resumed marching down the road without a backwards glance. Hurrying to keep up with his long legged gait, Lydia pulled up next to Jarel.

"If I may ask, where are we going?" she inquired. "We are walking in the opposite direction of the home of the Graybeards my lord."

"Oh we'll go see the old man soon enough," replied Jarel with a careless shrug. "But first I must help some friends of mine that I had promised aid to before we go."

Nodding her head in understanding, Lydia pushed aside the slight annoyance she felt at his dismissal of the Graybeards. Honoring one's words was an important thing; her Thane was a good man.

"Who is it that we are assisting?"

Getting a sideways look from Jarel, Lydia felt her stomach clench slightly as she felt certain she had crossed over some unseen line. Her apology died in her throat as she caught glimpse of the sly smile on the man's fetching face.

"You might have heard of them before. I hear they're quite popular amongst you sword swinging barbarians," he teased.

Chuckling despite herself, Lydia decided to play along. It wasn't the first time her Thane had made a jab at melee fighters that night. "Oh? Maybe I should step back the next time we run into bandits if my skills are so unneeded."

Together the two shared another laugh as they continued walking, their path illuminated by the twin moons that dominated the night skies overhead. A comfortable silence fell between them as they carried on, staying on the path but keeping their ears sharp for the howl or wolves or other such beasts that stalked the night.

"So who are they?" Lydia asked again after a while.

Turning his head so that their gazes met, Jarel bared his teeth in a wide smile exposing his overly large canines that glinted ominously in the moonlit darkness.

"The Companions."


End file.
